


if you wanna go to heaven

by chocolatebrownie



Category: Foreign Affairs (Visual Novel)
Genre: Banter, F/F, First Time, Fluff, Library Sex, Screen Reader Friendly, idiots to lovers?? but still idiots, it's SAFFIC, mc and blaine are both very exasperated with each other, they're grown adults but still a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29286966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatebrownie/pseuds/chocolatebrownie
Summary: She wants to do it again, have Blaine beneath her, writhing. She wants to bring her to the edge and back, until she begs, to take her apart and put her back together again.
Relationships: Blaine Hayes/Main Character, f!mc/f!blaine
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	if you wanna go to heaven

**Author's Note:**

> The worst thing about writing gay fanfic is the PRONOUNS my god
> 
> Note: It's probably not very sexy because they do talk a lot during sex, I tried to make it more playful as they're both exploring with each other.
> 
> Set after chapter 7, Parents' Weekend is a week after the events of chapter 7 in this fic.

“Do you want to head out for an early dinner?”

Kennedy looks up from her computer, where she’d been buried in research. After their conversation at the club four days ago which unwittingly built _something_ between them, they began spending time after class and working on their assignments together—out of sight of the paparazzi of course. It’s currently past six in the evening and the library is very much closed, but Kennedy managed to persuade the librarian to let them stay longer. After dismissing Tatum for the day—which took more convincing—she and Blaine had got to work. 

“What?” she asks absently, still mentally structuring an argument for her essay.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Blaine looks at her, head propped on one hand, a teasing smile on her face. Her dark hair frames her face and falls down, just short of brushing the table. _How beautiful_ , Kennedy thinks, not for the first time. “The essay is more interesting than me.”

She goes to rest her other hand on Kennedy’s. It’s so new, being with someone like this. Her mother’s face flashes in her mind, and Kennedy draws her hand back. Blaine fixes her with a puzzled look. “What’s wrong?”

Kennedy trains her gaze on her laptop screen, guilt gnawing at her. She hates being so unsure of herself, so stuck in her mom’s shadow. Blaine doesn’t deserve this, someone whose heart isn’t entirely invested in whatever they’ve got going on.

“Seriously?” Blaine asks. “You’re pulling away, after everything? What happened to doing things on your own terms?”

Kennedy looks down to her hands nervously intertwined in her lap. She believed those words when she said them, but now, with Parents’ Weekend fast approaching… She doesn’t think she could look her mother in the eye while consciously engaging in the very thing that could cost her mother reelection and possibly bring two countries to war.

“Did that kiss mean nothing to you?”

Kennedy’s head snaps up, eye widening as she registers something she has never seen before on Blaine’s face—hurt. “Of course it did. It _did_.”

“Look,” she says, “you need to figure this out. You can’t kiss me one minute and freeze me out the next.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Kennedy thought it was easy for Blaine, building a reputation as the bad girl of Ardona. Then, she found out that it wasn’t. Are they really that different? She reaches to take Blaine’s hand, and Blaine lets her.

Blaine squeezes her hand. “You know you can talk to me right?”

Kennedy doesn’t know. What are they exactly? Friends who kiss sometimes? Girlfriends? She almost didn’t dare think it. Blaine admitted that she likes her, that she wants more. Where does that even put them?

Kennedy’s gaze wanders back to her laptop screen, dimmed from the lack of activity, research article long forgotten. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just, really hard. With all these expectations, being scrutinised, having everything I say and do picked apart. I didn’t ask for this, especially when I don’t know if I want to go into politics myself.”

“It sounds like you resent your mom,” Blaine says.

 _Of course she wouldn’t hold back on what she really thinks_ , Kennedy thinks wryly. “I don’t know if I would say _that_ ,” she answers.

“I do sometimes resent my parents,” she admits. “I don’t blame you if you do, it’s hard not to when you just want a normal life without always being thrust into the spotlight.”

Kennedy startles. Blaine hadn’t opened up much before, vaguely speaking on the subject of her parents and generally giving her sarcastic smirks and teasing comments. She almost doesn’t know how to react.

“I just don’t want to disappoint my mom,” she says.

“You might. But how long will you go on trying to be the perfect daughter instead of living your own life?”

It's far from the first time she's heard this from Blaine, but Kennedy has to admit, she has a point. She has to separate her life from her mother’s—or find a balance. “We have to keep this out of the media.”

Blaine asks the question Kennedy was wondering: “What exactly is ‘this’?”

“Us. What we have,” Kennedy attempts.

“I’m gonna need more than that, Rutherland.” A small smirk plays on Blaine’s lips.

Kennedy closes her eyes, letting out a sigh in exasperation—though she can’t blame her for wanting to define this.

“I do like you,” she confesses, a slight smile on her face at Blaine’s answering smirk. She expects Blaine to say something sarcastic in return, but instead—

“You’re the first real thing I’ve had in a long time,” Blaine says, voice soft. The sudden tenderness in her gaze is too bright to look at, and Kennedy has to look away.

Blaine’s hand reaches out to tilt her face back, and Kennedy watches her gaze fall to her lips. She leans in, but Blaine moves back. “No more games,” she says.

“No more games,” Kennedy promises.

Blaine meets her eyes and nods. Then, she leans in to press a kiss to Kennedy’s mouth. Her hand moves down to cup her neck and pull her closer as Kennedy tilts her head, winding her hands into Blaine’s long hair. She tastes of the coffee she downed against her own better judgement and Kennedy's disapproval.

Blaine leans back in her chair, forcing Kennedy forward, until she’s on the edge of her seat. Blaine’s hands move to her waist, pulling her onto her lap. The sudden change jolts Kennedy, and it occurs to her the compromising situation they’re in. It’s late, and the library is closed except for them, but it is still a public area.

She draws back. Blaine’s eyes are dilated; the beautiful brown of her irises barely visible, her lips red and swollen. “Aren’t there cameras here?” she asks, face warming.

Blaine’s gaze takes a moment to focus before she gives Kennedy the smirk she knows all too well. It’s actually kind of endearing now. “Cameras? In the library? What for? Nobody is going to steal _books._ ”

Kennedy gives her a playful gasp as she gets up in response to Blaine’s nudge. “What are you implying?”

Blaine stands, taking her hand and pulling her into a private study room at the back of the library. She locks the door and pushes Kennedy against it. “Is that what you want to think about?” She leans down to mouth at Kennedy’s neck, just above her pulse point, lightly scraping her teeth across the skin.

Kennedy lets out a gasp. “No.”

“Good.” Blaine moves her leg in between Kennedy’s as she kisses her hard, pressing her against the wood of the door. Her head drops onto Blaine’s shoulder as she stifles a cry, clutching them as her head swims and legs grow weak. _I like this_ , she thinks, _and I really want it._

“I can’t believe you’re taller than me,” she complains, trying to focus against the press of Blaine’s leg, trying to not reveal the effect Blaine has on her.

Blaine lets out a huff of exasperation and Kennedy buries her face into her shoulder to hide a smile. She slides her hands down Blaine’s arms and under her top, running her hands over the soft planes of her stomach, a pleased smile touching her lips in response to Blaine’s sharp inhale.

Blaine’s gaze drops to the expanse of skin covered by Kennedy’s top, eyes trailing from her neck to stomach.

“Take it off,” Kennedy murmurs. Blaine’s eyes flick to hers for a second, and then she’s shoving off her blazer and pulling the sleeves down, unbuttoning the top. She ducks her head to press her lips to the newly revealed skin, nipping lightly, kissing the visible swell of her breasts.

Kennedy impatiently pulls Blaine closer, pressing up against her as Blaine hooks her leg around her waist. The feel of her chest against her own, the sweet smell of her perfume and her _closeness_ sends her head spinning in a heady feeling of desire.

Blaine draws back, a question in her eyes.

“Go on,” Kennedy breathes.

She nods. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Her hand moves to rest on Kennedy’s bare thigh, exposed when her skirt hiked up, skimming the skin to touch her—a place nowhere except Kennedy has been before. It’s new, intimate, and it sparks a fire in her. She tenses with anticipation, want coiling at the base of her spine, her heart racing.

“Have you done this before?” Kennedy manages to get out, trying to keep from squirming.

Blaine stills. “No,” she admits. “I’ve dated, but I’ve never gone this far.”

Kennedy thinks she should be more surprised. But Blaine’s touch is tentative, exploring, and so, she isn’t. “Is our first time really in a _library_ then?”

“You talk too much,” Blaine tells her. “And besides, you wanted to be more scandalous, didn’t you?”

It isn’t exactly what Kennedy had in mind, but any arguments she would've created disappear from her mind as Blaine’s hand moves higher up her thigh. She bites back a moan, her head falling back into the door as Blaine’s thumb swipes against her.

“Never thought I’d see you speechless.” Blaine gives her a teasing smile as she begins to move her hand, slipping a finger inside her.

Kennedy closes her eyes, the pleasure muddling her thoughts. “I hate you so much,” she rasps.

Blaine just chuckles in response, which turns into a moan as Kennedy’s hand slides up under her top to cup her breasts. Her hips roll against Blaine’s hand as she lets a whimper slip, barely feeling the cold of the door behind her. “Don’t stop.”

Blaine flattens her palm, letting Kennedy grind down into it while moving the one inside her until she finds something that curls Kennedy's toes. She cries out at the sudden flood of pleasure and Blaine leans down to nip at Kennedy’s ear, sending a jolt through her. The combination of _Blaine_ with the thrill of what they’re doing in public tightens the coil in her gut, tipping her over the edge, her grip on Blaine’s waist tightening as she lets out a strangled moan, barely registering Blaine’s whispered swear as her eyes slide shut and back arches off the wall. She shudders as Blaine coaxes her through her release, indulging in the little ripples of pleasure before slumping back against the door, spent. Then, Kennedy opens her eyes to find Blaine gazing dazedly back at her.

Her cheeks immediately heat, assumptions of how she must have looked filling her head. Self-conscious, she averts her gaze, withdrawing her hands and going to button her shirt, before Blaine catches her wrist. Kennedy pauses before hesitantly meeting Blaine’s eyes; the intensity she finds there roots her to the spot. No-one has ever looked at her like that—there hasn’t ever been a _reason_ for someone to look at her like that.

“You looked beautiful like that,” she tells her, and a fresh wave of embarrassment threatens to engulf Kennedy. She doesn’t know what to say. What _does_ one say to the person whom you had sex with in the library?

“Thank… you?” she gets out.

Blaine’s expression changes to one of bemusement, then she bursts into laughter. Kennedy takes the opportunity to observe her, her rosy cheeks and still-dilated pupils. It occurs to her that Blaine still hasn’t gotten off yet, and forcing herself not to overthink it, she grips Blaine’s waist, walks her back to the table, and slowly, self-consciously drops to her knees.

Blaine watches, making no move to stop her. “What are you doing?”

“Let me.” Kennedy’s voice is barely a whisper as she reaches to rest a hand on the front of Blaine’s jeans, waiting for any indication to stop—a protest or gentle hand on her wrist pulling her away. But nothing comes, and Kennedy drags the zipper down, fingers catching in the waistband of her underwear as she tugs it down her legs. From a gentle press to her hips, Blaine sits down on the desk, looking at her intently. Her normally neat hair is mussed from Kennedy’s hands, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Kennedy pauses. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m glad to be your first,” Blaine replies without skipping a beat. There’s a grin on her face, but there’s no mistaking the rasp, the desire in her voice.

 _I’m your first too._ The thought comes to Kennedy, unprompted, but she doesn’t speak it, instead taking hold of Blaine’s knees and spreading them. She slowly trails a finger up Blaine’s thigh, kisses the softness there, until she feels her tremble. “You _tease_ ,” Blaine gasps out, breath hitching in anticipation. Kennedy hides a smirk, experimentally dragging her tongue against her.

A moan tears its way through Blaine’s mouth, and it’s the best thing Kennedy has heard. Encouraged, she continues, hearing Blaine’s breathing turn ragged as she begins tugging on Kennedy’s locks, twisting the free curls and yanking strands out of her bun.

Blaine slings a leg around her neck, gently pulling her closer. Kennedy obliges, leaning in more to press her tongue to her. Blaine’s head drops back, and her eyes close as she shudders slightly. Kennedy looks up. The sight is intoxicating, and she drinks it in, all too willing to drown in it.

It isn’t long before Blaine begins to buck under her mouth, before she tenses and then relaxes, before a low moan chokes its way out. Kennedy wishes she could swallow it up. She draws back and watches, strokes Blaine’s thigh through it like Blaine had done for her. Wisps of Blaine’s hair is plastered to her temples, her gaze hazy as she catches her breath.

And then it strikes Kennedy that _she_ is the reason Blaine looks thoroughly debauched, coming apart at the seams; she revels in it. _It’s worth it,_ she thinks, _any lecture, any scandal—it’s worth it to see Blaine like this._

She wants to do it again, have Blaine beneath her, writhing. She wants to bring her to the edge and back, until she begs, to take her apart and put her back together again. But this isn't the time for that, and so she compels herself to speak—

“Doesn’t seem like I did too badly my first time,” she says.

There’s a pause, and then Blaine speaks as she hops off the table to dress herself. She wobbles slightly, filling Kennedy with a small sense of self-satisfaction. 

“We really had sex in the library.”

“Yes, and I didn’t even get to see you fully naked,” Kennedy says, the complaint slipping out before she could rein it in, mortifying her. She decides to blame it on the post-sex endorphins.

Blaine appears unsurprised. “It’s a great tragedy,” she agrees breathlessly. “But there’s always next time.”

“There is?” Kennedy asks hopefully. Even though they had worked out that they need to keep it discreet, she needs confirmation—some kind of promise that there will continue to be something between them.

Blaine leans in to kiss her deeply, and a sudden spike of heat goes through her abdomen, warmth flooding her veins down to her toes. She draws back, fingers lifting to brush her lips. “You…” she can’t complete her sentence, blushing.

“What?” Blaine just gives her a devilish grin that implies that she knew exactly what she was doing, and Kennedy takes a deep, shuddering breath. She forces herself to focus.

“There is definitely a next time,” Blaine continues. “And many more times after that. We’re going to learn with each other after all.”

After today, Kennedy is very much open to learning. She doesn’t tell Blaine that though, choosing to ask the question she’d been turning over in her mind: “What are we exactly?”

There’s a slight hesitation before Blaine speaks. “Girlfriends, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Well, do you want to be?”

Blaine’s blushing now. Blaine who flipped off the paparazzi. Blaine who stripped down in front of everyone to streak around the school, unfazed. Blaine who has never looked so uncertain. It’s captivating. “Yes?”

Kennedy can’t believe her ears. “Me too,” she says.

“So… I guess we’re girlfriends then?" Blaine looks like she can't believe it too. 

There’s a second where Kennedy registers it, and then her heart soars, her lips splitting into an ecstatic smile. She’s in her mid-twenties for god’s sake, she shouldn’t be this excited to have a girlfriend. But she is.

"Don't tell anyone yet," Blaine says.

"I won't," Kennedy promises. She understands, very well, the consequences if this gets out. No one could know, not even Tatum—though the fact that he would disapprove is incentive enough to not tell him. 

She pulls Blaine in for one more kiss, as gentle as the one in the club, then draws back enough so that their noses graze. "So much for the essay," she whispers.

"I had a way better time," Blaine replies. Kennedy smiles back, and then her heart falls and mood dampens as her mother's face flashes in her mind again. Blaine lifts her chin up. "Hey, we'll be okay."

Somehow, Kennedy believes her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Do leave a comment :)


End file.
